


come on, superman (say your stupid line)

by that_one_urchin



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_urchin/pseuds/that_one_urchin
Summary: Hope Mikaelson has three goals for the year: graduate from high school, get a spot on the basketball team, and finally speak to her long-standing crush, Josie Saltzman.This all becomes tricky when she gets bitten by a radioactive spider.OrThe hosie!spiderman AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 69
Kudos: 293





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Fic title is from The Less I Know The Better by Tame Impala. 
> 
> 2\. All characters are 18 and up for, uh, reasons.
> 
> 3\. This doesn’t really follow the same plot as any specific Spider-Man movie, but there’s bits and pieces of them all.

_Hope Mikaelson sets her foot on the wooden bench in the locker room and begins tying up the laces of her basketball shoes. She is barely done with the second knot when the thud of footsteps approach her._

_She hears a light giggle, a sweet sound familiar in her ears, and lifts her head to spot Josie._

_“Hey, quarterback.” Josie greets as she comes closer, hands behind her back, sheepish smile splitting her mouth and rounding her painted cheeks._

_One half of her face is colored in streaks of white and red, the number thirteen etched onto her skin._

_“That’s football, but thanks.” Hope says and pulls Josie in by the waist before she can accidentally mislabel another athletic term. She revels in the soft sigh Josie releases as her front presses to Hope’s jersey - number thirteen. “You dressed up. Did Lizzie force you into it?”_

_“No, silly.” She shakes her head, a wet gleam on her lips that shines like a beacon. “This is for you.”_

_Oh._

_“Me?”_

_“Mhmm.” Josie hums and tips towards Hope teasingly. “I’m all yours.”_

Hope wakes up with a frown on her face and a tight coiling in her abdomen, her hands clutching at dark blue sheets instead of Josie’s slim waist.

God, she’s so pathetic.

It takes a moment for the dream to fade from her head, the disappointment setting in less than a second later. Her bed feels distinctly cold now, although it has never truly known Josie’s warmth. In reality, all Hope has is the scattered fantasy of Josie’s phantom touches, but soon that is ripped away, too.

Her alarm blares beside her, on the nightstand, flashing 7:30 a.m.

Hope blindly slaps a hand against it to silence the noise and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She pads across the room, bare feet on chilled hardwood floors, and to her bathroom.

She goes through her morning routine slowly, still half-asleep and somewhat sluggish, barely able to keep her eyelids open while she washes her face and changes clothes. Hope is a little more awake by the time she brushes her teeth and can wipe the minty foam from off of her mouth without nearly falling back into a slumber.

Once Hope is done, she faces her reflection in the mirror and narrows her eyes determinedly.

“Today is the day you talk to her.” Hope points a finger at herself, the tip of it as wet and shiny as Josie’s mouth had been in the dream. What was that, anyways? Lip gloss? “You can do this, Mikaelson.”

It’s the first day of her senior year and she plans to finally muster up enough courage to speak to Josie Saltzman.

Watching the girl from afar has done nothing for Hope’s romantic life. In fact, it has hindered it greatly. There have been times when some of her other peers have taken an interest in her, sometimes even going as far as to ask her out, and none of it has ever led to anything more than a few awkward kisses.

Truthfully, Hope never wanted it to. She has loved Josie since middle school and can not imagine longing for anyone other than the tall brunette.

So what if Josie hasn’t glanced at her once in two years? All love stories are a bit odd at first.

Hope sighs at her own hopeless (emphasis on the hopeless) romanticism and goes back into her bedroom, shooting the plastic basketball at the mini hoop on her door before she grabs her backpack and leaves.

(Spoiler alert: she misses the shot.)

Freya is waiting for her in the kitchen, stirring too much sugar into a large cup of coffee. Her aunt smiles thinly, not one for having to deal with the morning before her first caffeinated sip.

Hope stays silent and makes sure to give her a wide-berth until most of the coffee is gone. “Are we out of bread?”

“No, there‘s some in the fridge.” Freya nods towards it, but it still takes Hope an extra second to find it.

Why is the bread not in its usual spot? She lifts her eyebrows suspiciously and tilts her head as she reads the label. Organic whole-nut wheat bread? Ew. Gross.

“Is this because of that vegan you’ve been seeing?” Hope asks, putting the bread back. She usually tries not to think about Freya dating, but she may have to get involved if this woman is going to ruin her toast.

“Most bread is vegan. And, no.” The slight pink tint to Freya’s cheeks tells Hope that she’s lying. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“No, it’s only…” Hope checks the clock.

7:56.

Shit.

Had she really spent so much time sitting in bed, thinking of Josie? She got way too distracted. Whatever. It isn’t the first time this has happened, and it probably won’t be the last.

“I've got to go.” Hope changes her tune real quick and abandons all chances of breakfast. “See you after school. Buy some real bread.”

“Ungrateful!” Freya calls after her, but there’s an _I love you_ in there somewhere.

She descends the stairs two at a time, repeating her short mantra: _I will talk to Josie Saltzman, I will talk to Josie Saltzman, I will talk to Josie Saltzman_.

Yep. This is her lucky day.

Hope is about halfway down the street before she begins to pant and realizes that she forgot her inhaler at home. Just great. It’s too late for her to turn around now, especially with the busy New Yorkers blocking her way back.

So much for luck.

-

“Alright, everyone, quiet down. We’re playing dodgeball today.” Coach Dorian claps his hands together in the first minute of P.E. class. “Shirts and skins. Mikaelson, you’re on…”

_Oh god. Please, no_.

“Skins.” Coach decides, because he hates her, then proceeds to form the rest of the teams.

Luck is no longer in Hope’s vocabulary.

One would think that it would be better to split into groups of boys and girls (or, as MG would say: boobs and no boobs) in a situation like this, but ever since that meaningful seminar last week the school has been preaching equality. Equality apparently means that Hope has to strip down to her sports bra and gym shorts.

Having Phys. Ed as her first class of the day is already bad enough, but dodgeball is just torture.

Balls flying through the air and smacking roughly against their targets? Muscled, athletic students ganging up on their weaker counterparts? _And_ she has to do all of this while in her underwear?

It sounds like some sort of bizarre nightmare.

“Woo, lets go!” Connor whoops loudly as he is placed in skins and joins the team. He receives multiple pats on the back from Sebastian and Jed. “Skins for the win! No offense, babe.”

Connor directs that last part towards Josie, his voice slightly more hushed, and yanks her closer.

Disgust pools in Hope’s stomach but she lowers her gaze before she can see anything more. This does nothing to save her from overhearing the faint kissing noises or catching a glimpse of him giving Josie a tongue bath in her peripheral vision.

So, there’s the other detail of this nightmare: Josie and Connor have been an item for about a month now.

Twenty-seven days.

Not that Hope is counting.

“Hey, you two! Cut it out.” Coach Dorian scolds them, a second too late in Hope’s opinion.

Once the teams split onto opposite sides of the gym, Hope is able to see just how much she’s been ostracized. Most of her half-friends who she would gravitate to are wearing shirts, along with MG. The Saltzman twins are also fully clothed and drifting to the back together, so they won’t have to play.

Good idea.

At least having Connor and his cronies on her team has an upside. Hope can huddle near the wall and avoid everyone until the period ends.

The game starts up and people begin to get hit in the face in no time at all. Technically, there is a rule about throwing a ball at someone’s face or crotch, but those rules fly out the window about as soon as the balls begin to soar. Several kids get pegged down by an overzealous Jed, and Hope notices Connor chucking ball after ball at someone who already looks out.

Real classy.

Hope is just glad that no one expects her to go out and participate. It’s not that she doesn’t like sports (she actually enjoys basketball very much), sports don’t seem to like her.

For one thing, having asthma limits her and, for another, she is almost unhealthily scrawny. Her metabolism allows her to eat and eat and never gain a pound, which is a detail she knows most teenage girls would appreciate, but Hope has always wanted to have a bit more muscle.

It would be nice to bulk up so she would not have to feel so weak all the time or worry about other people hurting her. New York is a tough city to live in, even during school she has the occasional run-in with danger.

Like now, the number of people still standing is dwindling, and Hope gets the sense that Sebastian is watching her, which rarely leads to anything good.

Hope turns to go elsewhere but does not get a chance to escape, since a ball is chucked at her head before she can disappear. It smacks the middle of her face roughly and bounces off to land on the floor. Her eyes sting and wetten while her nose throbs painfully, a silent curse soon being spat out of her mouth.

She allows a tear to slip, but quickly sucks it up, shifting all of her other emotions to anger.

“What the hell?” Hope meets Connor’s gaze heatedly. He smirks, she sneers. “I’m on your team, you asshole!”

He shrugs. “It was an accident.”

“No, it fucking wasn’t—“

Somewhere behind her, Dorian is scolding her for her language, but not punishing Connor for blatantly attacking her. It was clearly on purpose. Anyone within a five mile radius could see that he meant to hit her.

Hope itches to retaliate, but is smart enough not to. She could very easily get sent to detention or, worse, get her ass kicked. Connor could beat her in every physical competition without lifting a finger and charm his way out of every potential punishment.

Everyone and their mother knows that star athletes get special treatment at this school.

Coach Dorian approaches the scene but looks reluctant to intervene. He stares at Hope’s nose and gawks slightly, concerned. She wonders if it’s bleeding.

“Go to the nurse.” He instructs and peers around the gym, forcing Hope to linger for a second. She knows that he is going to pick someone to walk with her. Buddy system. “Miss Saltzman, go with Hope. Make sure she isn’t too injured.”

Both Lizzie and Josie reflexively share a quick glance at the sound of their last name. Hope expects them to go through their rock, paper, scissors ritual to decide who Miss Saltzman refers to, but this time they figure it out without a fuss.

While Lizzie readily backs away, Josie takes a shy step forward.

MG notices this and gives Hope a big, unsubtle thumbs up, but she can’t share in his excitement. She can barely comprehend the cute pink tint on Josie’s cheeks, let alone the fact that the space between them is growing smaller. All Hope can think about is the boys’ mocking laughter and the embarrassment that comes with it.

One would think that Hope would eventually get used to being tormented, but she never has. She always feels the same, a cross between angered and humiliated.

“No, I’m fine.” Hope says, too harshly, because Josie stills and looks crestfallen. She smiles to try and soften the blow. “I can go alone.”

Coach Dorian shrugs and abandons the idea of Hope needing a hall buddy, since she’s too old for that type of thing anyways, but Josie nods, her slight frown almost imperceptible.

Hope puts on her shirt and leaves her dignity at the door as she goes.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Why had she said no? She could be walking next to Josie right now, instead of trudging down the hall alone. Maybe if she had just kept her mouth shut, Josie would be cradling Hope’s head in her hands to try and soothe the ache. Maybe Josie would have even placed a chaste kiss on Hope’s bruise or apologized for dating a total asshole.

Hope is such an idiot. A single, useless idiot with a possibly broken nose.

When she arrives at the nurse’s office, she sees that the door is shut and sits in one of the chairs outside to wait. Her phone buzzes soon enough and a text message notification flashes across the screen, but she is reluctant to open it. Hope isn’t in the mood to talk, nor is she in the mood to cradle her nose until Nurse Gilbert comes out.

The phone wins.

**MG** : u good?

**MG** : Hope???

**MG** : at least u talked to her

Yes, technically Hope had achieved her goal. It will probably be the last time she will ever speak to Josie again. Fuck. She had been so rude to her for no reason at all, just lashing out blindly. At least she didn’t insult the girl or do something worse.

After another few minutes of waiting around with no sign of the nurse, Hope stands and knocks on the door.

No response.

“Nurse Gilbert?” Hope calls, knocking once more before turning the doorknob. She pushes it open an inch and peers inside.

The room is empty, but there’s a mini fridge in the corner and all Hope needs is an ice pack. She is betting that they’re in there and that she could grab one before Nurse Gilbert returns. That’s actually the better option, in Hope’s opinion. Now she won’t have to stop and explain what happened to anyone.

She checks that no one else is in the halls before darting into the room and prying open the fridge.

“Ooo, ice cream.” Hope notes, her voice slightly nasally due to the ice pack held to her nose. She wouldn’t normally steal, but she missed breakfast this morning and her stomach is starting to growl.

Hope sticks her hand in to snag a small cup of vanilla bean, but yelps as a hot twinge of pain pinches her palm. She jerks her arm back and the pain dulls, but Hope still moves cautiously since she gets the sense something is crawling on her.

What the hell?

She searches the floor hurriedly, sure she felt a bug of some kind fall off of her wrist. Something dangerous must have bit her, for it to sting that way. Hope finally spots a blur of black and red scurrying across the floor.

Huh. That’s strange.

It’s just an ordinary spider.


	2. Chapter 2

“You look like shit.” MG slams his locker door shut, causing Hope to flinch unexpectedly.

MG is right. Rude, but right.

Sadly, the universe has it out for Hope, and her day only got worse after the dodgeball incident and brief trip to the nurse’s office. She has the flu. Or the flu on steroids or _something_. All Hope knows is that sometime between wolfing down that ice cream and now, her body has decided to spontaneously combust. It’s hard to breathe due to the amount of snot built up in her nose and her itchy, irritated eyes aren’t doing much better.

It’s becoming hard to walk, honestly. Each step down the hall sends a growing ache up her legs and to her spine. It feels as if her bones are on a ruthless quest to crawl out of her body.

Hope caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom earlier and she swears she looked three shades paler than Casper the ghost.

It’s horrifying.

The warning bell rings a second later, making her flinch _again_.

“You really know how to woo a girl.” She mutters in response, sarcasm heavy in her voice. Hope’s only wish is that her tone will get the point across since she feels way too exhausted to manage a proper eye roll.

Thankfully, it does.

MG looks mildly apologetic.

“The only girl I’m trying to woo right now is Lizzie Saltzman, but sorry.” MG sneakily glances at her out of the corner of his eye, but his trademarked Concerned Friend face is a dead giveaway. “Are you sure you shouldn’t just go home? You kinda look like you’re going to drop dead soon.”

“ _MG_.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, but I’m just worried.”

“It’s my last class. I’m fine.” Hope insists, even as she has to clamp her mouth shut right after to try and keep herself from vomiting. It barely works. She swallows bile, feels it sting the back of her throat painfully.

They part ways at the end of the hall - MG with a dorky wave and Hope with a tight, forced smile.

At least her last class is one she actually enjoys. Art. It’s easy and Hope is good at it, on normal days when she isn’t being chased by the Grim Reaper.

Hope gets to class and drops bonelessly into her seat. She releases a heavy sigh as she fetches her sketchbook out of her bag, glad to be able to sit down and relax. Hope spares a glance around the room, seeing that her peers are still leisurely strolling in and that the teacher is nowhere near ready, and decides to make a list of possible illnesses she may have.

_1\. The flu_   
_2\. Food poisoning_   
_3\. Mono_   
_4\. A plague?_   
_5\. Herpes??_   
_6. Pregnant???_

Hope is pretty sure her virgin ass is not pregnant with herpes, but she jots it down and underlines it anyways.

“Okay, class.” The teacher, Ms. Tig, bellows and claps her hands together. It sounds like a sonic boom going off in Hope’s ears. She bites back a groan and touches a hand to her throbbing head, disgusted to find the skin slick with sweat. “All of you need to take your seats, now, but be careful of where you choose. Whoever you sit next to is your partner for the first project of the year.”

An excited murmur runs through the class. Hope actually _does_ groan this time.

“Yes, yes, I know. Very exciting.” Another loud clap from Ms. Tig causes a painful thud to jolt through Hope’s head.

She feels as if her brain is being stomped on.

Hope shuts her eyes and tries to force some air into her lungs before she passes out, practicing a breathing exercise she hasn’t had to use since it was taught to her in therapy. That was way back when her parents died. Shockingly, the pain she is feeling right now is almost as excruciating as what she felt back then.

Fuck. Hope glances back at her list and decides to circle the word _plague_ twice.

“Hope? Are you okay?” A soft voice encourages her to finally lift her eyes an inch. They instantly widen into saucers once they land on Josie, who is sitting right beside Hope without a care. “Why are you making a list of… STDs and plagues?”

“...No reason.”

Josie makes a curious sound. “I don’t mean to snoop, it’s just, I said hello twice and you didn’t answer. Is it cool if I keep sitting here with you?”

“Yeah.” Hope rushes to nod, ignoring how the action seems to force her brain to rattle against her skull. “It’s _coolio_.”

Then she falls right out of her seat and _collapses_.

What feels like just minutes later, Hope wakes up to cold, damp pressure on her forehead and the faint rustling noise of someone moving around beside her. Although Hope has her eyes closed, harsh lighting still threatens to leak in through the lids. Her first attempt at opening them gives her a sharp sting of pain, but she manages to pry them open.

Hope’s gaze falls on a vaguely familiar figure, but the details are much too blurry to figure out for a solid few seconds. With a bit of effort, she makes out the bright yellow of a sweater, standing out starkly against tan skin.

Josie.

Hope blinks hard and runs her tongue over her lips to clear the odd, cotton feel from her mouth. Unfortunately, it does nothing to make her voice any less hoarse.

“Are you an angel?”

“No.” Josie giggles such a sweet and bright noise that it must be from the heavens. “But thanks.”

Did she actually just call Josie an angel right to her face?

Hope sits up quickly— _too quickly_.

Her head spins wildly and gives a hard thud, the weight of it on her shoulders surprising her. She clenches her eyes shut, hissing lowly in pain. A hand strokes its way up her back and another nudges her back onto the… cot?

Is she in the nurse’s office?

Again?

Yep. She is. Hope feels absolutely pathetic and borderline embarrassed, ending up here twice in one day, especially with Josie by her side. It also doesn’t help that Josie is holding a damp towel to her forehead, like Hope is five and needs a sitter.

Actually, that’s a lie. It feels quite nice.

Of course it does, _Josie_ is touching her.

“No, no. Lay back, you’re hurt.” Josie instructs in a gentle tone and Hope turns to jelly, doing what is asked of her without question. “You bonked your head a little, before I—“

“Twice in one day, Miss Mikaelson.” Nurse Gilbert observes as she returns to the room, a clipboard held in her hands. Hope blushes slightly at being teased in front of Josie. “You’re pretty lucky. You probably would have gotten a concussion if it weren’t for your girlfriend.”

Hope’s blush attacks her at full force.

“Oh, we’re not—“

“She’s not my—“

Hope and Josie grow silent once they realize that they are both hurriedly trying to correct the nurse, and accidentally speaking over each other in the process. Their eyes meet for a split second and something crackles and pops underneath Hope’s skin, like firecrackers bursting in her blood. Josie breaks the eye contact first, redirecting her gaze to the floor and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a bashful smile.

Jesus. She is so pretty. Hope’s breath catches in her throat. She has to clear it to allow herself to speak like a normal human being.

Hope lowers her voice. “What does she mean, if it weren’t for my… if it weren’t for _you_?”

“It’s nothing.” Josie fiddles with the hem of her top in a way that tells Hope it’s not nothing. Hope is hit with the sudden urge to rest her hands over Josie’s to calm them. “I caught you when you fell. I just didn’t want you to hit your head or anything.”

“Thank you.” Hope says sincerely, touched.

Her heartbeat sounds like fucking thunder in her ears. Damn it. Is this just the Josie Saltzman Effect?

“You looked really sick.”

“Thank you.” Hope repeats, sarcastically this time.

She definitely doesn’t need Josie to remind her of how bad she must have looked earlier. If she felt incredibly shitty during class, then Hope can only imagine how she looked.

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” Surprisingly, Josie rushes to correct herself. She sounds… sort of panicked? “You’re _not_ ugly. I just mean that you looked hot. Temperature wise, _obviously_. I mean, not obviously, it’s not like you’re unattractive or anything. I—“

“Listen, you two can’t keep flirting in here.” Nurse Gilbert taps her pen against her clipboard.

Hope is mortified. “We weren’t flirting.”

“ _Mhmm_.”

Hope scowls.

Nurses need to mind their own business.

“I’m going to go, now that I know you are doing okay.” Josie pats Hope’s forehead one last time, unaware of how hard Hope is biting her tongue to keep herself from begging Josie to stay. “I’ve got cheerleading tryouts, so… I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you around.” Hope’s disappointment must show in her voice, because the nurse looks at her like she’s a sick puppy who deserves to be pitied.

Ugh.

Fuck (Hope squints up at the name tag) Elena Gilbert.

Elena laughs, shaking her head. “Teenagers…”

Once Nurse Gilbert is done chuckling at Hope’s awkward, nonexistent love life, she actually does her job and gives Hope a pretty thorough check up. Hope gets all the usual nurse stuff. She has to stick out her tongue and say ah, gets her pulse checked, and is momentarily blinded when Nurse Gilbert shines a light directly into her eyes. It’s all standard procedure.

“Here, squeeze my fists.” Nurse Gilbert holds out her hands and Hope does just that, although she has no clue what this is supposed to prove. Still, it gains her a nod of approval. “Good. You can let me go now.”

Hope retracts her hands.

At least, she tries to. She tugs her palms back to her body with the sole intention of allowing them to rest at her sides, but for an odd second or two they seem to stick to Nurse Gilbert’s closed fists. She nearly drags the older woman forward.

“Sorry.” Hope murmurs, once she can finally pry her hands away and get them to… unstick?


	3. Chapter 3

**Hope** : i’m going to the store for bread

**Hope** : actually GOOD bread

**Freya** : very funny

Hope slips her phone back into her pocket while she jogs down the sidewalk. It’s somehow easier to move now that she’s out of school. She is not quite sure if it had been the short checkup in the nurse’s office that had helped or just the chance to rest for a little while, but she barely feels sick anymore. It’s almost as if she’s been completely healed.

Silently, Hope wonders if Josie could have been the one to make her feel better. She knows that Josie isn’t a doctor or anything and the idea is a bit far-fetched, but Hope thinks of how carefully Josie had held that damp towel to her forehead and feels her chest lighten.

Maybe Josie is magic.

Or, more realistically, maybe Hope is an idiot who ate some bad ice cream, fainted, and is now just on cloud nine because she finally spoke to Josie Saltzman.

She _spoke_ to Josie Saltzman.

Hope grins and picks up her pace, remembering how beautiful Josie had looked and how nice she had been. It almost seemed as if Josie actually enjoyed being around Hope. Hopefully she did and Hope isn’t reading things wrong.

The memory of Josie’s smile lingers in her mind. Pearly white teeth and pouty, pillowy lips. So _soft_ looking. Hope wonders if they would feel soft too, and what they would taste like if she were to kiss them.

Kissing Josie would be a _dream_.

“Watch it.” A tall man hisses in passing, his bulky shoulder bumping into Hope’s.

The man is much, much larger than Hope (who is usually one of the shortest people in the room), and rams into her rather roughly, but she doesn’t budge. Her feet stay planted to the floor without any effort and she stands perfectly still, feeling oddly strong.

“Sorry, sir.” Hope mutters politely, although her eyes narrow into a glare. Damn New Yorkers.

She looks upwards, spotting the grocery store’s sign right above her. Huh. Hope glances back down the sidewalk. She must have ran pretty fast…

Hope decides to shake it off. It’s not like getting faster is something to worry about. She should actually be happy that her day took a turn for the better and her athleticism is somehow improving. With basketball tryouts coming up, Hope needs all the help she can get if she wants to make the team this year.

Once she gets in the store, she goes straight for the bread. Hope has to side-step around the guy who bumped into her earlier, but she pays him no mind and eagerly scoops up a bag of sourdough bread. She explores the rest of the store with the slices tucked under her arm, picking up a couple of food items she likes and lingering by some of the children’s books and birthday cards.

She finds a copy of Flat Stanley and smirks, snapping a picture of it to send to MG.

**Hope** : [image]

**Hope** : reminded me of u :)

**MG** : whatever, noodle arms

Hope frowns and pokes her own bicep. Through the material of both her shirt and jacket, her arm feels as if it’s somehow doubled in size. Curious, she pokes it once more, feeling the sturdy bulk of it. Weird. It’s probably just the layers of clothing that are getting in the way.

Although, she has been doing more push-ups lately. That could be it?

Hope walks farther down the aisle. It’s far from October, but the store is already selling plastic masks for Halloween. She grabs a cheap, red spider one and puts in on her face, intent on taking another picture to send to MG.

(They have a hundred inside jokes, one of which involves the time MG and Hope both ended up crying over a spider in middle school.)

While she is adjusting the mask’s string around her head, Hope hears a voice coming from the front of the store.

“Take all the money out of the cash register.”

Shit.

A robbery.

Hope knows what she is supposed to be doing right now. Freya has told her, many, many times, that if she sees any crime going on she should run the other way and not try to play hero. Hope usually follows those rules - avoid dark alleys, travel in pairs, keep your head down - and hasn’t been robbed yet, so she figures they work.

That’s why she has no idea what the hell she is doing when she wanders to the front of the store, like an idiot.

Thankfully, the man doesn’t spot her. He has his own mask on (it’s technically just a beanie, but it is pulled down over his face to hide his identity) and a gun, which is aimed at a red-faced cashier.

“Hurry up.” The man says and the cashier rushes to comply, hands trembling all the while.

Hope feels bad.

And, oddly, protective? Like she should be doing something to help.

All of a sudden, her skin prickles, the hair on her arms sticking up. Hope feels as if she is sitting in a movie theater, waiting for a jump scare to come.

The man shifts around abruptly and points the gun at her. “Hand over the necklace, too.”

Hope glances downwards, catching a glimpse of the chain and the Mikaelson crest that lies just underneath her shirt.

No.

Not _this_.

She’ll give him her entire wallet and the clothes off of her back if it means not being shot, but the necklace is one of the few things Hope has left over from her family.

“No.” Hope shakes her head, her voice coming out slightly muffled due to the stupid mask she is still wearing.

When had she gotten so brave? So stupid? This entire day has felt off-balanced and being held at gunpoint is definitely the cherry on top.

“And…” Hope should really shut up. “You should give the money back. It’s not nice to steal.”

The man laughs at her.

Hope frowns and curls her hands into fists at her side, purely out of habit, and becomes confused when she has to struggle to pull her fingers back apart. They feel as if they’re matted together by some sort of glue or other sticky substance. She knows that having something on her hands is the least of her problems right now, but it throws her off enough that she waves out her palm to try and get it off.

Without warning, a white substance flies through the air, connecting Hope’s hand to the gun in one long, stringy line.

Hope yanks her arm backwards in a moment of panic and accidentally takes both the substance and the man with her, accidentally whipping him across the store with a very shocking amount of strength. He lands somewhere in aisle number seven, giving a satisfying thump and a swear, but it all falls on Hope’s deaf ears.

_What the fuck?_

Hope flexes her fingers experimentally, none of her attention on the criminal anymore.

She inspects the stuff on her hand closely, noting that the substance is made up of intricate lines, all strung together in a pattern, like a web. Hope swipes her thumb over the residue curiously, it’s texture slowly becoming familiar.

It _is_ like a web - like a spider web.

Again.

What the fuck?

At first, Hope is too disoriented to notice that the cashier is staring at her like she just grew a new limb, but when she catches the employee’s eye she remembers the situation she’s in. Criminal. Gun. Right.

“Uh, sir?” Hope clears her throat, annoyed by how squeaky and childlike she sounded. _Sir?_ She drops her voice several octaves. “Dude?”

_Dude?_

And why is she speaking like Darth Vader now?

Hope sighs heavily, embarrassed with herself and the fact that she doesn’t know how to make the webs disappear. She has to carefully step over them on her way to aisle seven, where she previously saw the man land.

He is still splayed out on the floor, struggling to get up, the gun several inches away from him.

Hope tries doing… whatever she did again, and jerks her hand forward until a web shoots out to pin the man’s left hand to the floor. She quickly does the same to his right, before he can even try to pick up the gun again.

“Well, my work here is done.” Hope resists the urge to say anything else that could sound lame and backs up until she reaches the front counter. “Can I buy the bread, or…?”

The cashier stares at her, awestruck. “It’s free.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Hope glances behind her, not really sure what to say or do. “Sorry about the webs.”

Silently, Hope exits the store and walks all the way to her apartment and a leisurely pace. On the outside, she appears calm and collected.

On the inside, her brain is a tidal wave of:

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—_

“How was school?” Freya asks, as soon as Hope opens the door. “And why do you have a mask?”

“Good.” Hope dashes by her, not offering up any other details besides that. Maybe later, she will feel bad about blowing off her aunt, but now she can’t get to her room fast enough.

Hope slams the door shut and presses her back against it. The first thing she does is rid herself of the spider mask, tossing it carelessly to the floor, and then stripping off the rest of her clothes. Her nerves jump beneath her skin, overactive and buzzing so wildly that Hope fears she is going to have a heart attack.

The full-length mirror in her room reveals multiple things:

1\. Hope’s room is a mess.

2\. Hope is also a mess and has a web in her hair.

3\. Hope is… buff.

The third one freaks her out the most. She traces her fingers over muscle that wasn’t there earlier, both confused and pleased by the new changes. Her scrawny arms are now thickened to the point of bulging outwards and her rib cage, which used to be exposed by her simply taking a breath, is covered by toned abs.

The weirdest part of it all is how well her body has adjusted to it all. No stretch marks, no sign of aching, just _power_.

Maybe this is all a good thing.

Hope’s phone buzzes, buried under her clothes somewhere, and she leans down to sort through her pockets until she finds it. She has an unread text from a number that she doesn’t recognize.

It’s a picture. Oh god. The last time Hope opened a text like this it was one of the boy’s in her class sending an unsolicited dick pic.

Cautiously, Hope opens the message.

**Unknown** : [image]

Why is someone sending her an art rubric? Hope raises her eyebrows, skimming over the innocent picture in relief.

**Unknown** : it’s Josie btw, MG gave me ur number


End file.
